


liquorice root sticks

by Leutik



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, forced to spend time together, psychiatric (sort of) facility au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28958037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leutik/pseuds/Leutik
Summary: santana commits a minor felony, and has to serve her sentence by volunteering at a daycare facility, where brittany is held.that's pretty much it. enjoy :)
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	liquorice root sticks

Santana knew she messed up. She messed up the moment she thought it was a good idea following one of Puckerman’s ideas. And now  _ she  _ was being caught, as he ran away. Just, amazing.

It was an innocent joke: she was meant to distract the cashier as Puck stole a bottle of wine from the store. But the guy noticed, called the police, grabbed Santana’s wrist as Noah ran away.

And now she was waiting for her parents to pick her up from the police station, where they threatened her she would spend the night there. They couldn’t really prove she was an accomplice, but it was pretty evident that she had no business and making so many questions about that pack of gum. So she was to receive a letter, where she would be told what to do to serve her sentence.   
Santana knew that if she wasn’t latina, she would have gotten away with it. She just knew. She didn’t even steal anything, for fuck’s sake!

So that’s why two days after she got a letter, where it was stated she had to serve ten hours in a crappy adult daycare center.

It wasn’t much, Santana knew, and there were no indications of when she was supposed to be there. All she knew was that she was going to waste a lot of her time she could otherwise spend in looking for a job or a university, since she just dropped off from the Louisville one, much to her parents’ dismay.

Thinking about it, judging by her recent mischiefs with Puckerman and that awful street group he and a certain blondie were part of, the Skanks, she could use an occupation. Even if it was free-labour, racism-driven, where she would have to change diapers to old men.

Ugh, she couldn’t wait to get it over with, and never get involved with Puckerman ever again.

Brittany knew her family was large. It used to be smaller, when it was just her parents, her sister and herself. Then, all of a sudden, when Brittany was around ten years old, her parents were called to school, and they were told she was “special”. Of course she was, Brittany knew full well she was a unicorn, unique in her species, but she also was pretty sure she kept saying that. So how come they were only noticing at that point?

The thing was, her parents told her that she was so special, that she was to visit a doctor sometimes. Nothing excessive, just a couple of hours a day, after school. Because of that Brittany had to stop dancing, if not late at night in her room.

When she got older, her doctor told her she would go to a special place, instead of her visits: a place she could meet other people and enjoy herself. So she did, and from that moment on, she started spending her days in the adult daycare facility of Lima. In the morning she followed MIT’s lessons, and in the afternoons she played cards against her new, larger family.

She still saw her family in the evenings, when she came back home, but they never told her why the rest of the family could come and spend the night at their place.

The place was crap. That’s the first thing Santana thought, a few days later, walking through the gate. It looked too colorful, as if that was a kindergarten and not an  _ adult  _ center. She wondered what kind of people she’d find. What she had to do. As Santana gave the sheet of paper to the receptionist, where it would be stated how many hours she served, she was already fed up. With the fake cheeriness, with the fake smiles and tired eyes. She was a former cheerleader and a professional bully: she could recognize authenticity.

It was early in the afternoon, because she wouldn’t waste her precious morning in that crappy center. That morning, indeed, she browsed every university she could find, academies of arts, anything she could dance in. Santana left the Louisville one because of the lack of dancing. It was practice, cheerleading, competition. She could do all three, of course she could, she was Santana Lopez - she just missed arts. Creativity, that sense of freedom, that sense of uniqueness. She didn’t want to become yet another cheerleading machine everyone would soon forget of.

A nurse greeted her with a big smile, and Santana didn’t know if she could get a cavity from looking at it.

« You must be Santana! Come with me sweetie, let’s find you someone to show you around! »

Santana didn’t know why he wasn’t showing her around, but she was glad, because she couldn’t stand that excessiveness.

They walked from the courtyard to the inside of the building, which opened with a big lobby and a few corridors starting from it. They took the central one and found another room, with a big carpet, a few chairs on the walls and a piano. An old lady was playing it, as a couple of other people were slowly swinging to the music. Amongst them, Santana noticed immediately-

« Brittany! Come here please! » The nurse called her, as the blonde girl turned around, impossibly straight hair following the movement behind her shoulders. As if it was in slow-motion.

She bounced towards them, big light blue eyes that stole Santana’s breath immediately. Oh god, she would have preferred one night in jail compared to this, honestly.

« Yes, Mr. Sheldon? » And her voice was sweet too, sweet but dry, in a sense, and Santana couldn’t pinpoint what it was about it, but it made her want to listen to it again. So fucking weird, indeed.

The nurse put a hand on Santana’s shoulder, as she frowned, and told Brittany: « I’d like you to show Santana around! She’ll be with us for a couple of days. »

Brittany just answered: « Sure thing, » to him, and after that she  _ finally  _ looked at Santana. She smiled at her with a tiny smile, of a courtesy one, before walking past her with a: « C’mon. »

Brittany didn’t know why Santana was here. She looked ordinary. Not in a bad sense, it’s just that Brittany knew that she got here because she was special, because she was a unicorn. And each and every one of her larger family was a unicorn too: they had stitches, were on a wheelchair, had a hard time talking, said unrelated words when least appropriate, or just looked extremely sweet, their tongues sticking out from time to time. Brittany was positive that Santana was no conventional unicorn, but she’d determined to find out why she was here.

That’s why, after showing her the tennis field on the back of the building, she asked her: « Why are you here? »

Santana blinked once, before answering: « It’s none of your business. »

They walked back inside the building in silence after that, Brittany slightly hurt, but comprehensive. It wasn’t her business, indeed, but she was just curious. She wondered if Santana was there for anger-related problems. Looking at her perennial frown, from the corner of her eyes, it resonated with her.

Santana had no idea what she had to do: she just glanced at her watch, ready for that first hour to be over. And in the meantime, waiting for the next forty minutes to go by, she just followed Brittany. Because that Sheldon was nowhere to be seen, and she wasn’t going to stand awkwardly in a corner.

So now they were sitting at one of the tables in the art crafting room, as Brittany was drawing on a piece of paper. Santana was holding her head on her palm, bored. She wondered why Brittany was in that place, because so far she just looked a bit  _ lost _ .

So Santana just asked her, after noticing that there still were thirty-seven minutes to go: « Why are  _ you  _ here? » 

Brittany didn’t look up from her piece of art, where random colorful lines were trying to resemble a rainbow made of candies, as she answered: « I asked you first. »

And because Santana was hardly at one-tenth of the time she had to spend there, she needed to play nice to have someone to talk to. And as pretty - so extraordinary pretty, indeed - that Brittany was, Satana still wished she wasn’t there. So she simply stated: « I have to work here for a while. » 

At that, Brittany’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, now looking at her, eyeing her. « But you don’t have the name tag. » 

« I guess they didn’t give me one, since I’ll stay here for so little. »

Brittany put her pencils down, looking seriously at her. « You’re here for being a compulsive liar, aren’t you? There’s Tina too, over there, who has the same problem- »

« No I really am working here. Well, not working, volunteering, sadly. »

Brittany still didn’t look convinced, and the rest of the afternoon was spent between her interrogation and Santana’s defence.

After a while, Brittany stated: « You know, I like liquorice candies best. »

Santana kept a sigh. Where the hell did that come from? « In comparison to what? »

« To the roots. You know, the one you have to suck. I don’t know why they invented them, if candies existed already. And I like the ones you have to unroll, because they make you wait. And you know what they say. »

Santana didn’t know whether to be impressed by how Brittany seemed to live on a whole other level, or just laugh. So she asked instead: « What do they say? »

Brittany smiled, still looking at her drawing, « The wait of the pleasure is itself a pleasure. It’s in the Bible. » 

Santana was pretty sure it wasn’t, but she just nodded.

When Santana looked back at her watch, she had served three hours already.   
It was way better than she expected, so she stood up, one palm flat on the table, next to Brittany’s now finished drawing. « Well, Brittany, I have to go now. Because this is a job. See you. »

« I’m sure you’re just going to another room, but see you tomorrow Santana! »

It was quite weird, how Santana couldn’t sleep that night. Light blue eyes printed on the back of her eyelids.

The next afternoon, Santana walked in the piano room, scanning the room but not finding Brittany.   
Sheldon surprised her, asking from behind: « If you’re looking for Brittany, she should be in the library. »

Satana tried remembering where it was, because the previous day she paid zero attention to Brittany’s explanations, focusing instead of the sound of her voice and how much she wished she was home. Contradictory much, but Santana wasn’t going to think about it.

She found the room, with bookshelves on the walls, a few armchairs and a fireplace. She found Brittany’s blonde head immediately, curled up in one of the sofas, a big book in her hands.

As she approached her, she read on the back of it that it was Milne’s Winnie the Pooh. Next to her, laying on the couch, was a book with “Permutations, Matrices, and Generalized Young Tableaux” written on it. Santana had no idea what to think of the combination.

Santana stood in front of her for a moment, before clearing her throat. Brittany looked up at her and smiled. « Hi there! »

« Hello. Uhm, can I sit here? »

« Sure! » 

After sitting next to Brittany, the calculus book between them, Brittany went back to reading. Santana could hear her muttering words under her breath, wait, repeat them, and jump to the next lines.

Santana didn’t really know what she was supposed to do, other than staying there, sitting on her hands. So she asked her: « Do you mind if I…? »

Brittany looked at her and saw her pointing at her maths book. She just nodded, « Yeah go on. » before going back to Winnie.

Santana opened it, read exactly one line, which was: “ _ A generalized Young tableau of "shape" where pi ^ p2 is an array Y of positive integers, having monotonically nondecreasing rows and strictly increasing columns.”,  _ she closed it and put it back down, horrified.

She stood up and walked around the room, a few middle-aged people reading on the various couches, as she skimmed the bookshelves.

« You can read this if you want. » Brittany told her, and as Santana turned around, she noticed her dog-earing the corner of the page.

« It’s no problem, you’re reading it already. »

But Brittany stood up, walked to her and put the book in her hands. They were standing quite close, closer than Santana was used to standing to anyone else, as she lightly gulped. « I’m tired anyway. » Brittany told her.

« Do you want me to read it to you? » Was Santana’s question, and with that, plus Brittany’s beaming, they found themselves stuck on the couch for several hours.

«  _ “Terrible and Sad," said Pooh, “because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail. And he's moping about it. So could you very kindly tell me how to find it for him?” _ _   
_ _ “Well,” said Owl, “the customary procedure in such cases is as follows.” _ _   
_ _ “What does Crustimoney Proseedcake mean?" said Pooh. “For I am a Bear of Very Little Brain, and long words Bother me.” _ _   
_ _ “It means the Thing to Do.” _ »

« Does it, really? » Brittany asked. Santana hummed, before resuming.

« _ “As long as it means that, I don't mind,” said Pooh humbly. _ _   
_ _ “The thing to do is as follows. First, Issue a Reward. Then-” _ _   
_ _ “Just a moment,” said Pooh, holding up his paw. “What do we do to this- what you were saying? You sneezed just as you were going to tell me.” _ _   
_ _ “I didn't sneeze.” _ _   
_ _ “Yes, you did, Owl.” _ _   
_ _ “Excuse me, Pooh, I didn't. You can't sneeze without knowing it.” _ _   
_ _ “Well, you can't know it without something having been sneezed.” _ _   
_ _ “What I said was, ‘First Issue a Reward’.” _ _   
_ _ “You're doing it again,” said Pooh sadly.  _ » Santana chuckled, finding the book strangely funny. She had expected it to be a children’s book, lame and boring, and yet she was having a great time. Perhaps, Brittany’s face close to hers, trying to follow her reading out-loud with her own silent reading, was contributing.

When Brittany stifled a yawn, Santana looked at her watch, and noticed five hours had passed. She looked back at Brittany, who just told her: « Please, go on. I’m not tired I swear. »

Santana twisted her mouth, pressed her lips together, forcing down a smile, and kept going for a few more minutes, before the nurse told Brittany their parents came to pick her up.

She only had two more hours. She should have been relieved by it, Santana considered. And yet, in front of the adult day care facility, she waited. It was stupid, really, because she literally just met Brittany. And she knew that had hesitation had something to do with her, because she only spent time with her. Perhaps Santana was just holding on to the feeling of being useful, having thrown so much away recently, with university and all that. Maybe she just needed a job.

She walked in, and found Brittany waiting for her in the lobby, sitting on the floor. Santana stopped in her tracks, frowning, « What are you doing? »

« You came! » Brittany stood up, walked to her and took her hand. Took her hand. She- she took her hand. Santana blinked once, twice, and followed her, head empty, as Brittany explained:

« You said you were going to work here only for a few days, so I didn’t know if today you’d come. »

« Today- » The rest of her sentence stopped right in her throat, as Brittany led her in yet another room.

« I thought we could play a board game today! »

So Santana kept to herself that today was supposed to be her last day, and played Monopoly with her. For one, two, and many more hours. She didn’t care if she was working for free, as long as she was enjoying herself. As long as Brittany was, too.

Brittany picked a Community Chest card and read: « You have won second prize in a beauty contest. Collect $10. »

Santana snorted internally, and handed her the fake money. Her beauty was worth far more than ten dollars, but surely she wasn’t going to tell her.

What strange three days in her life, Santana couldn’t help but consider, on her way home.

Brittany said her goodbye with a: « See you tomorrow! », and Santana couldn’t find in her heart to say that no, she wouldn’t see her tomorrow.

So, walking home, signed paper to bring to the police station, Santana went through the past three days.   
Strange, strange three days. Different from anything else in her life.   
Santana was used to running, kicking and biting her way to life, because she was a woman, because she was a latina, and because she was a lesbian. She was used to not having pauses, fretting most of the time, thinking what to do next, how to organize herself. To think like a machine, and as a war machine, to be more precise.

But then those three days happened: a little failure in her life, a price to pay, and a welcomed change in plans. She never would have expected to  _ enjoy  _ community service. And yet, there she was, unable to recall something that made her feel useful, that made her wake up and wait for what was going to happen that day.

But perhaps Santana was just desperate and tired. Perhaps those few past days were a lesson, to teach her how to live at a more sustainable rhythm. She’d never see that strange and beautiful ever again, with her sweet smiles and kind words, with her absurd questions and moments of brilliancy. But she got something out of it: she’d have a different approach to life now. She’d look for a good academy in the arts, and she’d do what she liked.

Brittany was gathering her things, next to nurse Sheldon, when she commented: « Can’t wait to play Cluedo against Santana tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll beat her at that too. »

« Oh, sweetie, Santana won’t come tomorrow. »

Brittany snapped her head at him, eyes wide open. « What do you mean she won’t come? She told me she would! »

« She worked the hours she was supposed to, already. »

« But- but, can’t she come anyway? Can you let her come? »

« If she wants she can apply for volunteering properly, sure. »

« And- can you tell her that? »

Sheldon looked around, a pensive expression on his face. They weren’t supposed to reach out to ex-convicts, paying their freedom with restorative justice. But Sheldon saw how Brittany looked more peaceful, lately, more energetic, as if somehow her best self had been brought out even more than usual. So, perhaps, they could make an exception.

« I suppose we can! »

The next morning, as Santana sent her résumé to an Academy of Arts, placed in New York, she received a call.

She picked her phone, and answered: « Hello? » 

The digital voice from the other end spoke: « Good morning! I’m Sheldon from the Lima daycare center, I just wanted to inform you that volunteering positions are available! »

Santana supposed it was a compulsory call they did every time they had a temporary worker like her, but she actually took her time to consider it. Because, even if those three days were just a sign from up above to tell her to focus on herself, perhaps she could turn that sign into a longer one.

So that early afternoon she found herself once again at the reception of that place, signing a paper. They assured her she could leave the position at any time, and that was good, as she had only a few months before the new semester would start and, if accepted, she’d move to New York.

They also told her that she wasn’t supposed to do anything in particular, because the nurses would take care of the important stuff: she was just supposed to help the patients in there feel a little less lonely. Make them company, play with them.   
In Santana’s mind, “patients” directly translated to Brittany, but there was no need to address that. She was there for free, and she could help whoever she wanted, right?   
They gave her a name tag too, and she smiled a little looking at it. Now Brittany had no reason to doubt her.

As she walked into the lobby, she found Brittany waiting for her, again. She smiled widely, and it infected Santana too, who fought to keep her smile a little more contained.

« I knew they were lying. They told me you’d leave me, but here you are! » And with that, Brittany dragged Santana to the playing room.   
Santana’s chest tightened upon hearing those words, because Brittany didn’t say that they told her she wouldn’t come back. She said that they told her she would  _ leave her _ . And that was much worse.

That day, Santana found out that Brittany was good at Monopoly, but she couldn’t play Cluedo at all. Nonetheless, she let her win.

Days passed in a blur. In the mornings Brittany would attend her online classes, get lost in them, keep herself occupied like that. During lunch she’d anticipate what was to come, and eat faster, legs swinging on the seat, toes curling. Because Brittany never had many friends, exception made for Lord Tubbington. But he smoked all day, and she really couldn’t stand his poor ethics, so Santana was her first true friend. She tried, she really did, back in elementary school, middle school, and even high school, but as she grew up, things got worse. She wasn’t stupid, not at all, and she saw right through who was trying to use her.

Santana was the first with whom she felt as if she wanted to spend time with her. As if Santana didn’t see spending time with Brittany a waste of her time, but she seemed content with herself.   
Even if Brittany came to terms with her situation a long time ago, she never lost hope she’d find a true friend, like she used to see in movies or in high school hallways. And now that she did, she was glad she didn’t close herself to cynicism.

In the mornings, Santana either worked out or worked on her dancing skills, trying to get back on track. As she danced, mimicking the NYADA videos, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the afternoon that expected her.   
She loved dancing, she really did, but perhaps she was that distracted because she was focusing on the technical aspects of it, and not its true, passionate nature.

Santana brought Brittany liquorice candies once, and she handed them to her, but Brittany just shove them under Santana’s shirt. It was light and it was a moment, but Brittany’s cold hands against her stomach stole Santana’s breath away.

« You’re not supposed to bring anything here. Didn’t you read the rulebook? »

Santana shook her head, but as soon as they were alone, they shared the candies.

A month and a half later or so, Brittany asked her, as they were drawing: « What do you do when you’re not here? »

Santana asked her why she was reading those math books a long time ago, and Brittany already told her that she was following a MIT course from distance.

« I’m preparing to enter an academy of art. »

« Really? To paint? You must be holding back then, because your drawing- »

Santana chuckled, « To dance, actually. My drawing sucks, I know. »

Brittany’s eyes widened, as she put her pencil down. After a moment of silence, she picked Santana’s drawing and held it in front of herself, to examine it.

« You just need a little more yellow in it. »

The next day, Brittany led her way to an empty room. Her walking was faster than usual, and her pull on Santana’s sleeve was persistent. Once they got there, Santana noticed that there were mirrors on the walls, a few bars, and a stereo in a corner.

« The piano used to be here, but since no one ever came here, they moved it to the living room. » Brittany explained.

« This looks like a… like a ballroom. »

Brittany smiled at her. « Since you read for me, I thought I could do something for you. So, if you want to practice… »

It was heartwarming, how Brittany hadn't caught up on what their dynamic was supposed to be. It was Santana the one who had to keep her company, do things for her, make her feel the best she could. But she corrected herself. It didn’t slip past Brittany, because Santana knew that she truly wasn’t stupid, by any means. Perhaps she bent what their relationship was supposed to be, to morph into what their relationship would be at its best form.

So Santana wouldn’t mind dancing a bit, if that was what Brittany thought was best.

« I used to dance too, before the diagnosis. »

Santana blinked, unsure of what to answer. So she just went for: « You did? » because she was curious to know why exactly Brittany was there, sweet Brittany, smart Brittany, who was attending perhaps the hardest university she could think of. But Santana held back, because at that point, there was much more to their  _ friendship  _ than just a mere label.

And yes, they were friends. Not the convenient friendship she developed with Puckerman, the Skanks, or her cheerleading teammates. Not a friendship made of favours and requests, but a spontaneous one, made of unrequested gifts, and enjoying each other’s company.   
Something Santana was experiencing for the first time.

« I did, » Brittany answered, walking towards the stereo, « and I used to take classes after school. But then I had to trade them for going to the doctor, and then for coming here, so I never danced like that after. » And after what was supposed to be a story of loss, a heartbreaking story, delivered with such maturity and calmness, Brittany changed the subject: « What music do you want to dance on? »

It was fast, and Santana just muttered a: « Everything’s fine, » before asking: « What- what do you mean you never danced “like that”? If you don’t mind me asking. »

Brittany put a cd in, and notes from a piano started filling the room. « It’s no problem. I just never danced with a partner, a proper dancing partner. Sometimes I dance with my brothers here, » and Santana knew that was how Brittany referred to the other patients, « but none of them is a professional dancer, you know. »

Santana didn’t really think about it, and just followed her guts, when she asked, without losing a beat: « Would you like to dance with me, perhaps? »

The smile Brittany delivered her, was the sweetest one Santana ever witnessed.

So they danced, and they danced, and Santana was rusty and way too technical, but Brittany was a patient teacher, helping her loosen up. It took them a few minutes to find their synchrony, but when they did, it was spectacular.

Brittany felt like being born again, like being awoken, finally, after years of slumber. Santana was something else, and she knew when to follow and when to lead, she knew when to catch her and when to throw herself, how to listen to the music, how to be possessed by it, much as she did.

They danced, and danced, and danced, until the sky got dark outside. When yet another song stopped, they stood in front of each other for a moment, Santana holding Brittany’s neck with one hand, and her shoulder with the other, as Brittany held on Santana’s waist. The height difference was something Santana didn’t notice until then, because they spent most of their time sitting. And as she looked up into Brittany’s eyes, she couldn’t find a trace of a thing she disliked about her.   
Perhaps it was stupid, but if dancing in NYADA wasn’t going to make her feel like that, she’d be happier to come back to Lima. Come back and work as a waitress or something in the evenings, so that she could keep visiting Brittany.

But Brittany was going to graduate, and probably leave that hole of a town. It was a big scary thought, having grown so dependent on someone she barely knew - so much that Santana took a step back, and left.

Brittany had no idea what she did wrong, and she blamed it on the late hour, as just moments after she was called to go.

The next day Brittany asked her if she wanted to dance again, but Santana told her they could read a book instead. The day after that they played a game, and the one after they took a long walk on the wide courtyard.

During the walk, Brittany addressed the matter. « Santana? »

« Mh? » 

« Are you angry at me? » 

Santana frowned, « Why would you think that? »

« Just a feeling. » 

After watching some of the rose bushes, whose signs explained their history and why they chose to plant them, Brittany asked again: « Why won’t you dance with me? »

That was a good question, indeed, a question that Santana asked to herself every night, falling asleep. Because the thing was that she wanted to. She could taste their connection in the little things they did, even walking side by side in silence, but it was never quite like  _ that _ . Perhaps that was precisely why she wanted and didn’t want to dance with her again. Because what if- what if Santana’s-

« No reason. » She found herself answering, unable to follow her own thoughts.

« So dance with me, tomorrow. »

Put in a corner like that, she truly couldn’t say no.

The letter from NYADA came, and for some reason, Santana wished she wasn’t accepted.   
But she was, and in a week’s time, she was going to pack her things and leave.

She told Brittany that, that afternoon, as they went hunting for tennis balls in the backyard.

« Brit. » She started, unsure.

Brittany just ran to her, hands full of yellow balls, « Look how many I found, Santana! »

Santana smiled, but it was bittersweet in her mouth. « I have to tell you something. »

« You found more? »

« Uhm, I found none actually, but that’s not the point. »

« What is it then? » Brittany asked, taking the basket Santana was holding, and starting to count the balls.

« I’m going to leave. » Santana said, all of a sudden, not knowing how else to put it.

Brittany stopped counting. She lifted her head to look at Santana, and she wasn’t pleased with the guilty look she found on her face. « You mean, tonight? I’m going to leave too. I’ll see you tomorrow anyway, right? »

« I’ll leave Lima next week. »

At that, Brittany put the basket down.

« Why? »

« Remember the academy I told you of? »

Brittany just nodded, as her eyes got glassy, and her lower lip quivered.

« It’s in New York, and I have to be there, since it’s a dancing school. » Santana explained, trying to control her voice, as she put her arms around Brittany’s frame. « I’m- I’m sorry. »

« What for? »

But Brittany’s voice broke, and Santana found herself unable to answer, a hard knot in her throat. She knew what she was sorry for: she was sorry for leaving her. But she was unsure  _ who  _ she was sorry for.

The next week something shifted, they both could tell. Perhaps Santana had to wait until the very last minute, or perhaps her choice of letting her down gently, gradually, was for the best. She truly didn’t know, as she realized how little she actually knew Brittany.

When the topic was brought up, from time to time, Santana would try to reassure her, telling her she’d come to visit her every time she came back.

Brittany asked her if she could come with her, once. Santana had to excuse herself, after that, because she felt a cry rising in her lungs.

On the second to last day, Brittany told her: « Do you know why I don’t like liquorice root sticks? »

Santana shook her head.

« Because you have to keep them in your mouth. And you never actually eat anything, you just let your saliva get flavoured, and they’re bitter, and leave a strong taste after. They make your tongue go yellow, and you have to brush your teeth right after. »

Santana just nodded, unsure if Brittany was just sharing that with her, or if she was talking in a cryptic language, like Santana learned she did sometimes.

« But I found out we have the plant at my house. So it must mean that candies come after the root. So even if the root is too strong, and not as sweet, it’s authentic, and it’s not altered. They don’t add sugar, and it doesn’t really feed you, but still people suck on it. »

« I don’t understand, Brit. »

« Liquorice, vanilla and cacao are all plants, did you know? But we don’t usually eat them in their natural form. We add sugar, and we make them pretty and colorful. But still, some people suck on raw liquorice roots. »

She didn’t answer Santana, but she knew better than to press. They only had one day left, as evening was approaching, and Santana didn’t want to waste it on arguing.

Santana came there the next morning, even if her name was signed in the volunteering schedule for afternoons only. She came early and she sat next to Brittany, as she took notes, one of the facility’s laptops playing an algebra lesson.

Santana gave Brittany her number, in case she wanted to call her, in those next few months. She was supposed to come back for the winter break, so she told her they’d see each other in three months.

Brittany waited the next afternoon too, even if she knew Santana wouldn’t come. And she waited the next one, and the next, and every time, after an hour or so of waiting, Sheldon would ask her if she wanted to play against him, and she would.

She texted Santana after a week, because Brittany didn’t have a phone, and she bought one for the occasion.

Right after receiving Brittany’s text, Santana called her.

« I thought I messed up writing my number, since it took you so long. » Was the first thing Santana told her.

Brittany smiled instantly, hearing her voice. « How is it going? »

« It’s hard, but I expected it to be. As soon as I come back we can dance again, and I’ll show you what I learned! »

And Brittany nodded, but Santana couldn’t see her, so she hummed. It felt as if being forced behind a glass, unable to hear each other properly, but it was better than silence. So they kept calling each other, after that.

Santana came back that winter.

She didn’t tell Brittany which day she’d come, to make her a surprise, so when she walked into the facility and found her drawing, she put the bag of candies next to her.

Brittany’s head turned around, her eyes widened, and she smiled in that sweet way Santana remembered, and always found so unique. They hugged, as Brittany threw herself in Santana’s arms, as she rocked her gently.

« I brought liquorice candies. »

« Even if they’re artificial? »

« Even if they are. Don’t you like them? »

« No, I told you I did. So I do. »

Brittany was free to leave the facility, if supervised, and since Santana was a regular at the place, she was allowed to bring her to ice skating.

They danced on ice, as well as they managed to, falling from time to time, and laughing.

To warm them up, Santana ordered both of them a hot chocolate.

« It comes from cocoa. » Santana told her, placing the steaming cup in front of her, as they sat at a coffee shop.   
It felt like a date, but Santana swallowed the feeling. Neither of them could afford that: she was there to give Brittany a great time, and disappear for another three months, until the Easter break.

« It does. But it’s artificial. »

« What if it is? »

« It’s no problem. It’s just, have you ever had natural cocoa? »

« You mean, the powder? I don’t think it’s safe. »

« Why not? »

« What if you inhale it? »

« Then you’ll have chocolate lungs. »

And perhaps, right then, Santana understood why Brittany needed a little surveillance. But she laughed nonetheless, as she patiently explained as best as she could the dangers of it.

The next break, Santana asked the facility’s nurses if they could organize an Easter egg hunt. During the morning she helped out painting the eggs, while in the afternoons she took care of distracting Brittany, so that she wouldn’t find out.

That summer they swam together in the facility’s pool - and honestly, Santana could only guess how conspicuous the donation must have been, to have all that -, and the image of Brittany’s body burnt like fire in the back of her mind.

« The academy must be really hard. » was Brittany’s comment in appreciation of her body, that Santana failed to catch on.

Three years passed by like that, as Santana was invited to Brittany’s graduation ceremony.   
She was invited by the daycare center, in the official role of Brittany’s attendant, and by Brittany’s smiley text too.

And that, too, felt like a date, as both of them dressed up, celebrated, and Santana met Mr. Pierce, Mrs. Pierce and Brittany’s younger sister.

« Lord Tubbington failed to come. » Brittany told her, as they made a toast in her honor, and drank, and danced.

« His loss. » Santana just answered, because indeed it was. And she didn’t really care if the cat was at their neighbors’ and had no voice in the matter, because as long as Brittany said so, that was how things were.

Brittany started her master’s degree, and Santana graduated too.

Because of her long-term services, Santana became Brittany’s referent. So that after, a year later, Brittany finished her master degree too, and Santana ended her first tournée, Brittany was free to leave the daycare center, and be independent.

And that’s precisely what she did, a liquorice root stick in her mouth, as she interviewed her pinkie with Santana’s.

« I thought you didn’t like them. »

« I’ve just been used to sugar. I like them best now, actually. » 

**Author's Note:**

> so, i have no idea why but i went on a glee marathon a few months ago, then stopped, then resumed last night, and now im currently at mid season 3. i haven't written for this fandom yet and i truly have no idea why, since glee has been a big part in my childhood/early teen years. i hope i managed to do justice to this beautiful couple, one of the best i've had the pleasure to watch so far
> 
> ps. i KNOW the end is rushed. it always is. i honestly never know what the hell a coherent rhythm is.


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